


Incomplete Chances

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-08
Updated: 2008-02-27
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Everyone is haunted by the secrets of their past. For one young witch, the secret keeps her from finding one of the greatest things in life - love. Watch as Hermione follows the path that causes her to break and eventually do the impossible.





	1. As Little As Five Years

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  
Author's notes: 1  


* * *

**As Little as Five Years**

Harry Potter, his dark, untidy hair sticking out at odd ends stood next to his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, her red hair pulled into a tight ponytail. They watched helplessly as their friend, Hermione Granger, stumbled from her bed and nearly fell the moment she took two steps. It was a horrific sight. She was dirty, her clothes unfixed and her eyes bloodshot from the mixture of excessive tears and extreme alcohol consumption. There wasn’t much they could do, for every time they tried to touch her she pushed them away and eventually, she staggered into the kitchen all on her own.

_‘A lot can happen in as little as five years,’_ Ginny thought as she threw her bag on the counter in an attempt to catch hold of Hermione before she fell.

Hermione Granger knew the whole truth about the detrimental things that can happen in a short amount of time. She has had experience with encountering more than one can expect and just as much insight in failing miserably in overcoming these barriers. For her, happiness was a long way away because she was suffering from the exact opposite: that of pure dissatisfaction and heartache, such to the point of recklessness and the brink of insanity. All of this is proof positive by her irrational behaviour.

Hermione pushed Ginny off ungratefully once she was on her feet and leaned against the kitchen counter, a half-empty bottle of alcohol in her hand.

“Hermione, what are you doing to yourself?”

Harry stood by and watched dumbfounded as she sank, clawing at her skin, drinking bottles after bottles of fire whiskey and letting herself deteriorate. This insanity had driven her beyond repair, beyond reach, beyond hope. 

“I’m getting rid of the hurt, the only way I know how.”

Her answer was confirmation of her madness and the distance in her voice was scary; she sounded so far away. Her friends worried about her, whether or not her suffering would lead to her demise or if she’d eventually revolve into the successful, bubbly and wonderful Hermione Granger. Many of them also began to think that the latter was impossible, that her happiness was beyond reproach and her state of sullenness would inevitably become permanent. 

“That’s not the only way,” they always said. “There has to be something else that can be done. What do you think you need?” they asked, pleading for salvation for her. “What is it that you truly want?”

And there was always one answer, only one solution in her eyes. To her, there was only one thing in this entire world that could make the pain go away and the tears disappear - only one.

“Him.” That would always be her response.

She needed him. She just needed him. Out of all the herbs, drugs, and cures in the world, the only remedy for her affliction was him; the only treatment she needed was Ronald Weasley.

Ironically, he was the cause for her psychotic reverie but yet she still saw him as the solution, the _only_ solution.

This illogical way of rationalizing what she wanted drove Hermione Granger into the stuffy yet plush office of Healer Roderick, one of the few wizarding psychiatrists in the wizarding world. Her ironic assessment of what she needed prodded those closest to her to make her visit this Roderick fellow and evaluate what it is that really happened and what it is she _truly_ needed.

That was where she sat now, staring into the healthy, plump face of Healer Roderick, a highly intellectual wizard who seemed more interested in asking question than evaluating answers.

“How does that make you feel?”

“What about life goals?”

“Your job is satisfactory? Do you have any issues? Concerns? Queries? Objections?” 

“Do you find yourself progressing in that area?”

It was more inquiring than she needed and more questions than she wanted to answer; the incessant interrogation only pushed her further and further into her reverie. 

The young, tender, heart-broken girl was barely listening. Her eyes remained unfocused and her cheeks were sunken from the constant state of despair she reveled in. Her usually, neatly kept hair was now loose in a maze of disheveled curls that hung lifelessly over her sharp, yet sullen face. She looked the epitome of a lost soul, trapped in an office and forced to confront the very thing she tried to run away from. Her reverie drove her into a state of personal reflection, which led to an epiphany of what was wrong.

See, many people suffer the way she was from catalysts such as death, financial strain, scandals, crime and pessimistic perspectives. Not her, though. The thing that ruined her life was the very thing people in these circumstances search for and the one thing that countless people wait their entire lives for. What had ruined Hermione Granger was love.

The recognition seemed to draw in her a new lifeline and she interrupted the good healer’s question with a simple, “Roderick.”

Her voice drew his attention quickly. She had remained quiet for the better part of two hours so it was a welcomed moment when she finally spoke.

“What is it Ms. Granger?” Roderick asked courteously, peering over his thin-rimmed glasses with a look of pure interest.

“You know what I think?” she started, talking not so much for him but for her. “I think this moment of limbo has long been preordained. For years I’ve been wondering where I would end up and for days I’ve been contemplating how it came to be that this is where I am. Now I know.”

“Well dear, let’s hear this theory.”

“See, I’ve taken a roller coaster journey that has ended with me dangling from a loop with no hope of returning safely to solid ground. And it’s all because of that moment I looked out the classroom window the first day of my sixth year at Hogwarts. That one moment of weakness propelled me forward into this eventual state of madness and fear.” She paused and finally looked fully into the soft, hazel eyes of her psychiatrist. Then, she continued to speak. “A lot can happen in as little as five years, Roderick. Where I am now is proof of the damage that can occur.”

Roderick remained still and silent. Hermione found herself divulging the secrets of her past to someone she barely knew. But what did that matter? She was finally able to begin to tell her tale of inadequate redemption and tell of the many chances afforded her during the last five years, chances that, to this day, remain incomplete. 


	2. Saga: The Beginning

** Saga: The Beginning **

**_   
_ **

**_ [… 5 Years Earlier …] _ **

“Bloody hell it’s hot!” Harry exclaimed, loosening his tie as he did so. “Today is going to be complete torture.”

“So right!” Ginny pulled at her collar and sucked her teeth as she entered the Great Hall with Hermione and Harry. “I don’t think I’m going to make it through classes today.” 

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “It might not be too bad.”

Ginny stopped suddenly and looked at Hermione. “Are you completely mental? It’s scorching and we have to be locked up in these hot classrooms all day.”

“Leave it Ginny,” Harry said, slightly smiling. “It’s the first day of school you see, so it’s like Christmas for Hermione and Doom’s Day for us.”

“What exactly are you trying to say Harry?” Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow as she watched Harry take a seat.

“That you like school _way_ more than the average person does,” Ginny and Harry said simultaneously. 

“And is that a bad thing?” Hermione asked, finally taking a seat. “It’s not a crime to enjoy learning.”

Ginny took a sip of orange juice, thankful for the coolness before saying, “But it is a crime to be so chipper on such a hot and miserable day like today.”

Hermione shrugged but did not push the conversation further; she could not deny that the September weather had indeed been strange and unwelcomed that day. Though summer was normally accompanied by a few days of heat, this first day of school was essentially equal to being in the center of the sun. No one wore their school robes for fear of burning up and almost all the students dragged their book-bags instead of hoisting them over their shoulders; the heat just drained all their energy. 

Every single boy wore his tie slackened, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and his collar button unclasped and opened as wide as possible. Girls fidgeted constantly, pulling their vests away from them at intervals to allow what little cool air there was to circulate and they struggled with the itchy stockings they were forced to continue to wear despite the blazing sun. It was maddening. 

Having to deal with classes that day was not a joy either. Care of Magical Creatures classes were welcomed with open arms for the sanctity of the cool trees and the shade of the forest whereas Potions and Divination – although normally despised – were dreaded, for they were held in the two hottest classrooms in the school.

Breaks were spent in the coolness of the Great Hall or the grounds where massive trees and porches were occupied as opposed to the normally crowded grassy nooks and Quidditch pitch. Everyone was hiding from the sun and searching for that one breeze that would cool their tongues and massage their faces.

But that first day was not all bad and Hermione Granger became one of the few students at Hogwarts to think that. 

It was during a double lesson of Arithmancy. She was supposed to be calculating her character number and surmising which personality type best suited her. However, her concentration was severely wavered by the sweat draining down her forehead and the pounding in her ears from the heat. Her eyes were beginning to render the numbers incoherent so she decided to avert her gaze.

From the Arithmancy classroom was a perfect view of a grassy area equal to the size of a little league soccer field with dozens of trees scattered and benches placed strategically within their shade.

But there was something else about the scene that was aesthetically pleasing to the eye. In the midst of the grounds were two tall figures walking towards the Entrance Hall, one of whom was easily identified as Professor Albus Dumbledore. But Hermione was more interested in the other figure. He stood about a head or two shorter than the Headmaster and with a confidence that rivaled even the head boy’s. His red hair hung in perfect waves over his face, and even from more than twenty-five feet away Hermione could not miss the appeal that lay beneath his brown eyes which were also highly distinguishable from such a far distance. 

Whoever he was, he certainly had Hermione’s attention captured, such that it took her a good two minutes before she realized that Parvati was trying desperately to get her attention. 

“What is it?” she asked impatiently, grabbing Parvati’s hand before she could pinch her again.

“Professor Vector is making rounds and you haven’t even finished the first question!” Parvati whispered, pointing at Hermione’s blank parchment.

“Oh bloody hell,” Hermione said, quickly jotting her name on top of the parchment before reading over the questions.

Professor Vector was only two tables away and Hermione had five problems she needed to complete. With some help from Parvati, she managed to finish the first four and got through half of question five before Professor Vector arrived behind their table.

“Aha, job well done ladies,” she commented, scanning through both their parchments. “Just one more step for this last question Hermione and you should have the answer.”

Hermione nodded and took her parchment back. Without paying full attention to what she was doing, she quickly scribbled something down, her mind’s eye still wandering more on the figure in the courtyard rather than the numbers in front of her.

“Hermione, seven plus five equals to twelve not fifteen,” Parvati giggled, shaking her head as Hermione put a line through the wrong answer. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Hermione replied, not entirely sure if she should tell Parvati the whole truth. “This heat just has me a little drained, that’s all.”

“Oh I know the feeling,” Parvati replied, turning back to her own parchment. “This morning I was tempted to wear just my skirt and a regular tank-top. Can’t take too much of this heat.”

“Hopefully no one self-combusts from being too hot,” Hermione said gravely, running the edge of her quill over her chin as she checked her answers.

“At least it’ll cause for some excitement.” 

\----

The rest of the day went by slowly. Potions was torture; the heat-wave mixed with the fires from the cauldrons and the fumes of the potions made everyone feel so woozy that not even Hermione had managed to finish concocting the Elation Elixir. History of Magic was as dull as ever and most of the class barely paid attention during Transfiguration, a mistake that caused them a ton of homework.

That evening, Hermione sat in the Great Hall next to Ginny and across from Harry. They were running on about Quidditch try-outs that were to take place the following weekend while Hermione was busy reading up on Human Transfiguration for their homework.

“You know, you should really get a head start on Professor McGonagall’s homework Harry,” she said, peering over the top of her text book. “We have five chapters to read and we have to practice changing the color of our hair for Wednesday.”

“I’ll read it later tonight Hermione,” Harry replied, swallowing a big chunk of chicken. “I do have a Quidditch try-out to organize.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

Ginny interjected, “Lighten up Hermione. It’s only the first day.”

“Yeah well -”

But the rest of Hermione’s sentence was lost and any thoughts of completing her reading for Transfiguration quickly seeped from her mind. She had just spotted the tall, red-haired boy from earlier enter the Great Hall. He looked even better up close. From here she could see that he had a strong build and a few cute freckles adorned his face. He was wearing a smile that showed a top row of perfect teeth and, strangely enough, he was walking right towards her.

Her body went rigid and her mind froze up. She couldn’t think straight, she couldn’t concentrate properly, she couldn’t even breathe normally. The figure of the tall, red-head loomed closer and closer and she became more and more panicky at the thought of it. What was he coming towards her for? Did he have the same kinds of thoughts about her that she had about him? Not possible; he’s never even seen her to have those kinds of thoughts.

Once again, Hermione’s engrossment in her own thoughts left her unresponsive to someone’s attempt to talk to her. It wasn’t until she felt a sharp pinch on her upper arm did she jump up and grab hold of it, finally coming out of her trance.

“Ow! What the bloody hell was that for???” she cried, rubbing the soar spot on her upper arm. But she stopped talking just as she saw those brown eyes looking back at her.

“To get your attention,” Ginny said. “I was trying to introduce you to my brother but you were just staring and weren’t answering.”

“Your, er, your um, your br-br-brother?” 

“Yes my brother.” Ginny stood up and touched the boy’s shoulder. “This is Ronald. We call him Ron for short, though.” Then, she touched Hermione’s shoulder and said, “Ron, this is Hermione Granger.”

“Nice to meet you,” the boy called Ron said. He extended an arm but Hermione didn’t take it; she was still staring at him with one arm rubbing the other one. “Are you alright?” he asked, leaning closer to her.

“I’m, er, I’m, yes, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and stood up. “I have some homework I should be catching up on,” she pronounced, grabbing her books and speaking without looking at anyone in particular. “I’ll see you two, or three, later.”

“But you’re going to miss Ron’s sorting,” Ginny said, trying to stop Hermione from packing up. “It’s not everyday we have an unexpected speech from Hat.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Harry asked. “You’re just about done with that reading and that’s all we had to do for tonight.”

Hermione shrugged and gathered the rest of her things quickly, leaving them staring after her. In essence, Harry was right; she only had about six or seven pages left to read and she could do that easily in the morning before breakfast. But catching up on homework was not the reason she wanted to disappear quickly.

Ron was the reason she wanted to disappear. It was the first time in her entire life she understood the term ‘weak in the knees’. For those few, tiny moments, she had lost complete control over her body and her thoughts and had succumbed to the power of attraction. Without even knowing who he was, she had felt a pull towards him and it both scared and exhilarated her. The mixture of feelings was something she was not equipped to handle so she had to leave, or face making a fool of herself in front of someone who was essentially becoming her first crush. 

“What’s the matter dear?” the Fat Lady asked, noticing Hermione’s distance expression.

“Pixie Dust,” Hermione said softly, staring into absolutely nothing. 

“That’s not what I asked,” the Fat Lady said.

“Excuse me?” Hermione said, finally looking up. “Oh, er, nothing’s wrong.”

“If you say so, dear.”

The Fat Lady waved her arm lazily and the portrait swung open. Hermione stepped through, entering a relatively empty common room. There were only a few first year students talking excitedly about their schedules and a few fellow sixth year students hovering over the piles of homework. Seamus and Dean were struggling through their Transfiguration readings while Lavender and Parvati were talking animatedly, their books strewn to the side. When Hermione walked past them, Parvati looked up at her.

“Did you see the new student?” she asked, turning slightly to face Hermione. 

“What?” Hermione asked, still in a slight daze.

“The new student,” Parvati repeated. “I passed him walking with Professor McGonagall in the hall on the way up here.”

“Oh, er, I,” Hermione stammered. “Yeah I saw him.” 

“He looks like he could be another Weasley,” Lavender commented. “He has the red hair and the freckles.”

“He is a Weasley.” Hermione adjusted the books in her hand before continuing, “Ginny introduced me downstairs in the Great Hall.”

“I knew it!” Lavender said. 

“They can’t hide,” Parvati added. “He looks real cute though, especially with that hair.” 

Lavender giggled. “I know. Did you see his eyes? They are _gorgeous_!”

Hermione smiled to herself and stepped away from the conversation, heading towards the stairs. Parvati and Lavender’s discussion confirmed Hermione’s notions that Ron was a true looker. The way he had gazed at her and leaned towards her to make sure she was alright made her stomach swell with butterflies. The fact that he had even taken the time to notice her made it even worse, or better, depending on how one looked at it. 

Hermione flung her books on her bed and then plunked down beside them. Thoughts of Ron’s mystifying brown eyes and flaming red hair filled her mind and suddenly, she found herself agreeing with everyone else - that it was indeed a hot day. However, before lying down on the bed, Hermione found herself wondering if the heat she was feeling was from another source rather than the sweltering weather of that September day. 


	3. First Time They Talked

** First Time They Talked **

The following two weeks went a whole lot smoother than that first day of school. Classes began to pick up and, because everyone had actually done their work, they became slightly more bearable. Even better still, the weather had changed dramatically. It was no longer unbearably hot and the wind was actually blowing now with a slight cool breeze here and there. 

The only thing Hermione had trouble smoothing out was her behaviour – or lack there of – whenever she was around Ron. She literally froze up in his presence and stammered so much each time she tried to talk directly to him that she had given up on it entirely. It was difficult to avoid him, however. He was in most of her classes and had become part of their group instantaneously. The amount of time around him made her want to talk to him more and more and, after two weeks, she had begun to feel antsy about it.

One Tuesday morning, Hermione found herself pacing back and forth in the girls’ bathroom, trying to persuade herself into talking to Ron. She had been contemplating doing so for the entire weekend and had failed miserably - one time, she had taken the long trip from her dorm room to the lake only to stand and stare at him as he skipped rocks; then, another time she had sat next to him in the common room and when he asked her how she was, she shook her head and sprinted out of the room. It was becoming pathetic and annoying.

She really wanted to perk up the courage to talk to him before someone else started to move in. Ron was the perfect candidate for attraction – he was cute and funny, and he was also a new guy which meant unexplored territory and made him a magnet for desirability. Lavender had already begun to bait him and Ron seemed to enjoy biting. If she didn’t hurry, Hermione might just lose her chance altogether and would have to settle for being the silly girl who runs away whenever he talks to her.

“Just pick up some nerve and talk to him!” 

Hermione slammed her hand on the edge of the sink and stared into the mirror of the girl’s lavatory. A pair of dark brown eyes stared back at her and showed the same hint of anxiousness that she was feeling. 

She shook her head at herself and thought to herself, _“This is just utterly pathetic. What is so bloody hard about simply_ talking _to someone, Hermione? It’s easy. You talk to Ginny everyday and you hold long conversations with Harry. But, then again, your heart doesn’t burn with the intensity of a thousand suns for Harry. Come on girl, get a grip!”_

Hermione looked back into the mirror and let out a cynical laugh, then said, “What kind of girl gives herself a pep talk in order to talk to someone?”

“The same kind of girl who’s insane enough to talk to her reflection.”

Hermione jumped and spun around to see Ginny emerging from one of the stalls. She sighed and turned back to face the mirror just as Ginny walked up to the faucet next to her to wash her hands. The two remained in silence as Ginny turned on the tap, ran her hands under the warm water and then dried them off before shutting the pump off. 

“So,” Ginny said, “are you going to explain why you’re in here gabbering away at yourself?”

Hermione shrugged and bit her lip. “I’m just trying to make a decision about something.”

“Trying to decide whether or not you’re going to talk to someone?” Hermione nodded and Ginny continued, “And who is this person?”

Hermione went quiet on that one. How was she supposed to tell Ginny that she was interested in her brother? I mean, it wasn’t that Ginny would disapprove; she was always trying to get Hermione to talk to one guy or another. I was just an uncomfortable topic under normal circumstances but this was Ginny’s brother for crying out loud. 

“Er, you don’t know him,” Hermione lied, turning away from the mirror so to hide her face. She was a horrible liar and Ginny could always tell if she wasn’t telling the truth just by looking at her.

“Maybe I do,” Ginny replied. “I know quite a bit of people.”

“Well, I don’t think you know this one.”

“OK, well,” Ginny started, “my advice to you is to just strike up a conversation over something small. Like you could ask him how his day has been so far; or if something happens in class you could start a little chat about it. It’s fool proof.”

“And what if he doesn’t respond?” Hermione asked, turning back to face Ginny.

“He will,” Ginny assured her before making her way towards the door. “Small conversations never really put a guy off. It’s when you start off too big that they become a little defensive and unresponsive.”

Hermione nodded and picked up her bag that was strewn on the floor before exiting the lavatory behind Ginny. 

“Oh, and make sure you don’t start off with anything intellectual,” Ginny said, as they made their way towards the Great Hall.

“Why? Intellectual conversations are riveting,” Hermione said.

“Yeah sure, because a guy wants to hear about Ulric the Goblin and Giant wars. Sooooo entertaining,” Ginny said sarcastically, shaking her hands in mock-celebration. “It’s nerdy,” she added seriously, “so try to avoid it.”

Hermione laughed and followed her into the Great Hall, all the while thinking about what she had told her. It was good advice so how could she not follow it? That moment, Hermione resigned that she would allow herself to simply fall into a simple conversation with Ron whenever the occasion called for it.

\-----

Later that day, the opportunity fell directly into Hermione’s lap. They were in Care of Magical Creatures and Hagrid was busy separating people into groups of two. Everyone else except Harry, Parvati, Hermione and Ron had been grouped, and Hagrid had decided to pair Hermione up with Ron.

“I figure you’d be the best person to help ol’ Ron here get in the groove of things, Hermione,” Hagrid explained when she went to retrieve the roll of parchment from him. “Figure he’d need some kind of professional guidance.”

“OK, Hagrid,” Hermione replied, smiling at her good luck.

She walked back to Ron who peered over her shoulder to read the list. Their assignment in class was to identify, out of a list of twenty-five plants, which ones were suitable for feeding Bowtruckles and then pick an assortment of them to stock up the food supply. It was the perfect task that allowed Hermione to work closely with Ron and have a little stroll with him as they searched for the plants. 

“Twelve plants,” Ron announced as he ran his finger down the list picking out the required plants surprisingly easily. “That’s not too bad.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “We should start with the set further away and then work our way back up.”

Ron nodded and the two headed a little ways into the forest. There were only a few other groups that had seemed to have the same idea. Seamus and Lavender were busy trying to extract a leaf off of an Aloe tree and Neville and Dean were both still trying to identify the plants they needed to find. 

The first few minutes were silent ones. Ron was busy searching for their first plant while Hermione was mentally urging herself to strike up a conversation. But what was she supposed to talk about with a new student at Hogwarts? Ginny had said nothing “nerdy” so anything from their classes was out of question. But what was something riveting? Almost anything of interest that Hogwarts students talked about always pertained to something that had happened on the grounds; but Ron had just come there so what was there to discuss? Then it hit her and Hermione seized the chance to talk before her nerves got the better of her.

“So, er, how come you’re just coming to Hogwarts?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.

“Oh,” Ron said, looking at her. “I was in Romania with my brother Charlie. He deals with dragons there.”

“Yeah, I know about Charlie,” Hermione replied. “Ginny told me but I don’t think I ever remember her mentioning you.”

Ron chuckled. “It’s no surprise. Ginny and I never really got along up until recently.”

“Seriously?” Hermione asked, honestly intrigued. “How come?”

“I don’t know really. I think it was because we were born so close together we were just vying for attention simultaneously.” Ron shrugged and grabbed a few leaves from a nearby tree. “You can mark Ficus off.” Hermione took the leaves and Ron continued, “Anyway, my brother invited me to come with him the summer before I was supposed to come to Hogwarts and I just never left.”

“So, what kind of stuff did you do with your brother?”

“He used to breed dragons and I’d helped him raise them. Like feeding them, helping to train them, stuff like that.”

“Sounds like fun.” Ron nodded and Hermione continued, “I think the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my entire life is magic.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I’m Muggle-born,” she confessed. “So I grew up not knowing about magic at all. When I discovered that I was a witch, it was like I was venturing into this new world and I thoroughly enjoy learning all about it. It’s all just very exciting for me because it’s a life I didn’t grow up in but belong in none-the-less.”

“Wow,” Ron said, smiling, “you’re Muggle-born. I never would have guessed because you’re so talented.” He paused but when he saw the shocked look on Hermione’s face he quickly added, “Not saying that Muggle-born witches are poor at performing magic, it’s just that, not having the advantage of being around it at a young age sort of makes it a little more difficult for Muggle-borns to learn but you’ve seemed to grasp it so well.”

“I, er -”

“I didn’t mean to insult you or anything I was just…I um -”

Hermione giggled and interrupted him. “I’m not insulted. I’m just…you said I was very talented and um, I just –” 

Ron was the one who started chuckling now. “Oh, I understand now. But I was just speaking the truth. Your banishing charm was just so perfect in Charms class yesterday. My brother Fred still has a little trouble with that and he’s already out of school.”

Hermione nodded. “What made you come back to London?”

“I missed being here actually,” Ron replied, stopping to lean against a large tree. “From I was a little kid I looked forward to coming to Hogwarts. My brother taught me things in Romania but it wasn’t the same as being here.”

“I know what you mean. It’s how I feel every summer when I have to return home and I can no longer do magic.” Hermione leaned against a tree across from Ron. “I like my home and my parents are great but there’s nothing like being in a place you really _want_ to be in.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, a gracious smile appearing. “It’s like there’s always just this one place that you’d stay forever if you had the chance to. And no matter what people say or what happens to you, that place remains the single most important thing to you and you can never leave it behind.”

Hermione smiled as she listened to Ron. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him and their conversation lasted the length of the entire class period without either of them realizing it. Ron held a lot of the same ideas as she did when it came to Hogwarts and he seemed like such an interesting character. Also, she found his anecdotes about his experiences in Romania quite refreshing and exciting. She had read about dragons and heard a few tales here and there from Hagrid but the way Ron talked about them it was almost as if she was there herself, feeding them and watching them hatch and grow. 

Because of their riveting conversation, Ron and Hermione had to spend an extra twenty minutes after class collecting the plants and returning them to Hagrid’s hut. It caused both of them to miss the beginning part of supper that night and they had only arrived just in time to catch dessert. But Hermione didn’t mind. She had finally picked up the nerve to talk to Ron and she felt so accomplished now that they were on speaking terms, and good ones at that.

“Don’t you look happy,” Ginny said as Hermione bit into a treacle tart.

Hermione shrugged. “I had a good day.”

“Did you talk to _him_?” Ginny said, whispering the last word so that neither Harry nor Ron – who were seated across from them – could hear.

“Yeah, I did,” Hermione whispered back. “And it went pretty good, a whole lot better than I expected actually.”

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery guys is?” Ginny asked, leaning towards her.

Hermione shook her head. “No. I’ll leave it as just that, a mystery.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione and Hermione just giggled at Ginny’s impatience and continued to eat her dessert. Once in a while she glanced up at Ron who was busy eating a slice of pie. Once or twice she caught him looking at her and it only made the elated feeling in the pit of her stomach accelerate. 

The first time they talked was a success and from that moment on, their conversations became more and more frequent and they became more and more comfortable around each other. It was only a matter of time before things would escalate into something else and the wheel that was Hermione and Ron’s relationship would begin to roll.


End file.
